Curtain Call
by darkmoon443556
Summary: Many happy years after Jaenelle and Daemon's marriage. They have a wonderful life together. But now, death looms over Jaenelle, this time no one can save her.


Disclaimer: I own nothing, not making any money off of it.

Curtain Call

_Days turned into weeks, into months, into years of happiness. Daemon and Jaenelle lived the perfect marriage. They had three children, Mephis, the oldest, named after his uncle, was a Grey-Jeweled warlord prince. Then Titian was born, the Ebon-Grey Queen, whom Surreal took an immediate liking to after the name was bestowed upon her. Last came Saetan, a Black-Jeweled Prince, and the first Black-Jeweled Prince, named for his Grandfather, whom they all visited frequently. But time had worked its dark magic on the family. Jaenelle was dying, along with the rest of her short-lived generation who wouldn't live as long as the Hayllians and Eyriens . Gabriel, Sabrina, Aaron, Karla, Khary, Morghann…and so many more. But Jaenelle was going first, the result of so many years starving and straining her body. Daemon, looking almost as young as the day they had married, spent almost all of his days sitting by her bed, and when she was sleeping, he would sit in her favorite spot in the garden, silently crying. It was a hard time for the SaDiablo family. One of the hardest. _

"Daemon, what is it?" It was Karla, pushing her wheelchair in so that she was sitting next to him.

"Oh, nothing," Daemon said, hastily wiping the tears from his eyes.

"You know, my eyesight is getting pretty shitty, but it isn't _that_ bad."

Of the entire former first circle, Karla was the least changed by time. Her hair had always been whitish, and she still kept it spiked. Also, ever since she had gotten poisoned, she had had walking problems, so the chair wasn't much of a shock. But most of all, she retained her old sense of humor, and while it was just crazy for a hundred-year-old-woman, it fit her, and made her seem younger.

Daemon didn't say anything.

"It's all right, Daemon, we feel it too."

Ok, maybe Karla had softened a _bit_ as she got older-

"But wipe up your damn tears before they wash your assets off, because Jaenelle wants to talk you."

Oooops.

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Jaenelle was lying facing the opposite direction when Daemon walked into the room. He walked around the bed in order to see her much beloved face, and was distressed when he saw it wet with tears.

"Darling, what is it?"

"Oh Daemon," Her aged face shuddered. "I'm not sure what to do."

"What do you mean?"

"I'm dying." When Daemon started to protest, Jaenelle glowered, "Don't even try it. We both know. There's no point in denying ourselves the truth. But that's not the problem. I came to terms with the death months ago."

"Then what is it Jaenelle?"

She seemed rather embarrassed. "I'm not sure if you'll understand. I'm not sure if I understand. I just don't know _how_ to die. I always thought I would have the type of death that I should have had in my web, in all my power, with no time for last words. But what do you do when you know you _have_ the few more moments to say everything in your heart? What if you don't say what really matters?"

"Sweetheart, _you're_ what matters to us. We don't want you to be distressed, not over how we feel. We all love you so much." He paused. "I'm not sure how we'll survive without you." His voice cracked.

"Oh, Daemon." She reached up for him and he pulled her into his arms. "That's the root of the problem. I don't want to leave all of you in ruins, you, Papa and Lucivar. And our kids. I love you all so much. Promise me that you'll support them and that you'll let them support you. I don't want you to waste the rest of your life just because I'm gone."

"But you are my life!" Daemon's heart was breaking. She couldn't leave him. Not now, not ever.

"Please? For me? I love you so much. Only your happiness will make me happy. You'll have grandchildren to raise. And look out for the coven's children."

"I'll try, I'll try," cried Daemon, choking on his tears. For her, only for her.

"Good," Jaenelle said quietly, lying back on her pillows with a quiet smile. "That's all I ask."

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A month later, after dwindling on the borderland of death for weeks, the last day finally arrived. All the family and the first circle were crowded into Jaenelle's room. Many eyes were overflowing.

Jaenelle gazed up at them all. Her voice came out in a cracked whisper. "You know, when I was young, I always thought that dying tragically would be the best way to go. But, I think I like this better. It's kind of restful." She coughed painfully and everyone in the room winced for her.

"Hush witch-child," Saetan whispered brokenly reaching for her, "You don't have to talk."

Tears swelled in Daemon's eyes. There had to be something he could do. He couldn't just let her slip away.

As if she could hear his thoughts, Jaenelle reached up a shaking hand to his arm. Daemon clasped it in two of his. "I'm not going to be gone. I don't know how to explain it, I just know it. I'll always…be with…you." Her voice faded out and her eyes closed. At first, Daemon thought that she had died, but she kept breathing and opened her eyes slowly, for the last time. Sapphire eyes met three pares of golden ones. The three other sides of her triangle. She seemed about to say something out loud, but her mouth wouldn't move. Instead she reached out with her fading mind.

I love you To each it was meant in a different way. Father, brother, lover.

Her mind faded into darkness as she sent the message out. Her breathing stopped during "love". Her body stiffened and her eyes became glassy.

Daemon tried to reach her mind to return the message, but there was nothing there except a great emptiness, a black hole where a brilliant star had used to be.

He fell on his knees, still clutching her hand, tears pouring from his eyes. He heard Saetan and Lucivar fall to theirs too. Three minds alone in a stormy sea, the golden beacon of light that had shown them to gentle waters suddenly extinguished.

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Daemon placed a black rose on a freshly dug grave.

Witch's burial had been a quiet affair, with the same people who had been with her when she died.

They buried her on the peak of Ebon-Askavi.

Many people from the coven and first circle had come forward, contributing funny stories from Jaenelle's youth.

Many of them had gone home with sad, but full hearts. Their feelings bitter-sweet. Only Daemon was still standing at the grave. The first snows of the season were starting to fall.

Daemon's heart was empty. He stood so alone.

I love you Jaenelle He called into the space where her mind had been for so long. And then, without thinking, he slid into the abyss. White, yellow, tiger eye, rose, summer-sky, purple dusk, opal, green, sapphire, red, grey, ebon-grey, and down to his web, deep down in the black. There Daemon huddled for a minute or two, taking refuge in the depth, thinking of Witch.

He felt something down bellow, in the depths of the abyss. He lay on his stomach, grasping down for it with his heart in his hands. A child dipping his hand into the very top waters of a bottomless ocean. It fluttered past him, whispering a name.

Daemon, It said, in voice a soft, sighing caress. It was her. Witch was right there below him, filling the endless abyss.

Jaenelle had been right. She was with him, in the mist, in the shadows. Where ever he went, she would just be an arms reach away.

Daemon's heart lifted. A smile touched his lips. He wasn't alone.

As he rose from the abyss, he felt a snowflake land on his forehead like a kiss. He gazed up into the ebon-grey sky and felt, rather then heard, his name being called again.

He walked down the mountain. She walked with him. She always would be with him.

AN: This is my first tragedy-type thingy so sorry for the awkward phrasing. I only did a tragedy because me, my friend, and my sister decided to give each-other prompts and we had a month to write a two-page or more one shot about it. They actually said that it had to be Daemon and Jaenelle when they were adults, trying to make me write a romance. But as I am even worse at those, I made it this. I usually write comedy. That's why I had to throw in the part about Karla. The stories that they wrote from prompts are: Barbosa and the Parasol Romance and Soldier Side.


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